


Howl for Me

by BatSuitCrazy (McDanno50)



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:19:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McDanno50/pseuds/BatSuitCrazy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the Underground: werewolves are kept in silver cages and treated no better than the common pitbull. When the moon rises the wolves are forced to fight or die in the ring for the amusement of humans. Harvey Specter is a champion, a true alpha wolf. He can't be beat at least until he meets a young omega named Mike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Relief

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own 'Suits', the characters and general plot of the show all belong to their respectful owners. It was not my intention to offend anyone by the writing of this story. This multi-chapter story is Unbeta'd so please forgive any mistakes you may read.
> 
> I would love to show you all what Harvey looks like (at least in my mind; and no, the pic does not belong to me). However, I'm unsure how to post actual pictures. Anyone who could tell me would become my best-est friend.

The cool basement tiles are a relief on Harvey’s overheated paws as he’s led back to the cages. He has just won another fight but not without some sure to be impressive battle scars. The other wolf had nicked him pretty good just above his left brow and the blood is still dripping into his eye. He’s tired and it shows; his breathing is labored, his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. His furred head is bowed low enough to signal exhaustion but not defeat, and certainly not submission as he growls menacingly at the other wolves who charge at the bars keeping them at bay.  
  
Two of the four men leading him are carrying cattle prods reengineered with A-grade silver. The smallest but meanest one, Joey, starts poking at the wolves yelling some nonsense about keeping the mongrels in check. If he could rolls his eyes in wolf form he would because Harvey can’t help but agree with Joe. He’s an alpha and while he isn’t exactly the only one kept in this shithole, he is the oldest and the toughest. He’s won more fights than any other wolf that has ever lived in these silver cages; something the head honcho and the roaring crowd love.  
  
They finally reach his doublewide cage that sits on a small platform a good 20 feet away from the other wolves. It’s the champion’s cage and this silver prison has been his home for a long time. Joey opens the door and Harvey walks in without a fuss, going to the center of the space and lying down with a contented huff.  
  
There isn’t much to do but rest and wait for the next fight which he will most undoubtedly win. The last ray of hope in this shithole is making it back to New York one day. Until then, winning is the only chance he has at staying alive to turn that dream into reality.


	2. Pause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead; his eyes are closed." ~Albert Einstein

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks to my amazing readers and the lovely comments. Only a couple hundred words in and so much support for "Howl for Me". I have to admit that posting smaller chapters more often is a helluva lot easier than the chapters with thousands of words each. I can't give anyone a guarantee but if inspiration and encouragement continue to be fortunate then I see many chapters (and other stories!) being posted in the very near future. Ahem. Now I'll shut up and let the wolves howl for themselves. You see that's funny because this is a werewolf story :P

It’s been two weeks since his last fight. There’s something going on and Harvey wants to know what it is. There isn’t a wolf in this place that doesn’t have at least four matches a week including the low-grade runts. Harvey’s usual number ranks between two and three matches a week; Friday and Saturday nights bring in the most revenue or whenever the reigning champ steps into the ring.

The two week break is strange enough but the odd behavior exhibited by his handlers is making Harvey nervous. He tries to hide his anxiety by eating well and sleeping regularly. The only incongruity in his otherwise calm demeanor is the pacing. The back and forth, side to side, backward and forward movement throughout his cage. He can’t sit still knowing something is going to happen; something big if he hasn’t fought in two weeks or even exercised in half that time. His pacing isn’t helping the other wolves either. Some have taken to scratching at the floors of their cages and whining, desperate for some sort of sign that their leader hasn’t fallen to the madness of this horrid place. The other wolves however, the ones jealous of Harvey’s success, are almost constantly howling. The only respite in their wailing is whenever Joey or another of the handlers sprays them with the water guns. It sounds ridiculous but with a noxious combination of freezing water, powdered silver, and wolf’s bane these plastic toys are a menace to all werewolves. Harvey tries not to think about the agonized screams that always come after.

As he paces, Harvey ponders the possibilities of the lull between fights and general schedule. The head honcho could be beginning to doubt his strength after the injury he sustained from the last match. It’s a legitimate concern of Harvey’s that one day he’ll get wounded and get tossed aside despite his many victories. But no, that can’t be the reason this time seeing as how his injury has long since healed. If a physical impediment on Harvey’s part isn’t an issue then the head honcho must be prepping him for a doozy. And by doozy he means a serious match-up. If Harvey’s right which he always is, then whenever he does compete it will be an epic battle between two very powerful alphas.


	3. Incentive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, another chapter! A wee bit longer than the others but still blessedly short.

The time has come. Harvey can tell this is the moment he’s been waiting for. No, he’s not getting out of this horrible place, but he is finding out the reason for everyone’s strange behavior. He can hear the other wolves talking about the head honcho and how he’s going to pay a wolf a visit tonight before the match. The dumb bastards don’t know that its Harvey the big man wants to see.

And so he waits. Patiently sitting in the middle of his cage like it’s just an ordinary night and something big isn’t about to go down. His ears begin to twitch as the elevator to the left dings, happily announcing the arrival of at least five men. He doesn’t need to be a psychic to know it’s the head honcho that stepped off the elevator. It’s obvious in the way the wolves fall silent as if in respect to the mock alpha when really they just don’t want to die tonight or ever if they can help it.

Harvey refuses to bow his head as the others do when he walks past. He remains sitting even as Mickey King, the one who ultimately ruined Harvey’s life by kidnapping him and putting him in a cage like a dog, stops in front of his silver prison. He’s wearing a gray three piece suit– admirable considering his lifestyle– with a green silk tie that would look even lovelier as a noose. What remains of his red hair is slicked back with so much gel the strands turn a rust color.

“I’ve lined up a good match for you tonight Spirit.” Mickey says in greeting. Harvey hates that nickname no matter how apt. “You’re going to be duking it out with a wolf from Boston; he’s top dog around those parts. He’s an alpha with a sharp wit and even sharper teeth. You think you can handle that?”

Oh how he wishes he could roll his eyes. He settles for an indignant snort, snapping his teeth a little just to remind everyone that he’s got sharp teeth too.

Mickey chuckles. “Just in case you need a little extra incentive, if you win you’ll have a little something special waiting for you. Something really sweet that I think you can sink your teeth–or other things–into. If you lose…well try not to do that because I’ve got a lot of money riding on this fight.”

An extra incentive? What could be a better incentive than staying alive and living to fight another day? That’s all Harvey needs: proof that Mickey won’t just toss him aside because he loses to some douche wolf from Boston.

He barks to show his understanding. His father taught him to be polite even when you want to rip someone’s throat out using every inch of teeth and claw at your disposal.

“Make it a good show Spirit.” And with that the head honcho takes his leave.

The simultaneous sighs of the surrounding wolves echoes throughout the basement. Harvey finally stands and walks to the entrance of the cage to wait for the men to ready him. They secure the champion’s collar around his neck, leading him out of the cage and towards the arena using a silver chain as a leash.

As they near the arena and the crowd’s screams get louder Harvey thinks about two things. One, what could possibly be the incentive to win tonight’s match? And two, he fucking _hates_ the Red Sox.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to any Red Sox fans out there...Not really.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ya'll. This is a story I've been thinking about for months and have finally decided to post it. Keep in mind this is a WIP and I'm not as spontaneous as I used to be. Damn you old age. Encouragement does help <3  
> Also, characters/tags are subject to change throughout the story.


End file.
